Watching
by ItKeepsHappeningWhy
Summary: Sometimes, they watch the rain. Harry Potter/Supernatural crossover, inspired by the blog asksupermagickids on tumblr. Destiel.


Sometimes, they listen to the rain.

The rain is nice; the rain does not make condescending remarks, nor does it ever judge the two boys that just sat there

and

stared.

The silence between them is golden, silver, preciously bejeweled, and fragile is glass. When they watched the rain, there was no time to tease, no time to play, no time to even groan about exams or how boring class was that day. It's only them- Dean and Castiel- pretending to watch the rain.

Pretending they aren't watching each other.

Today, Dean's wand is drifting through the air, trailing idle sparks that hovered for the shortest amount of time before the dampness of the air killed them. Cas takes it as an excuse to watch his friend, watch the way he's looking down the bridge of his nose to his wand, watch the way he slowly blinks, as if he's entirely captivated.

Castiel, actually, could be called the captivated one.

Dean doesn't usually do anything. Sometimes, he clumsily charms things around them, in paintings. Indeed, it was a bad day for any painting when birds flew out of their headdress and started attacking them, or another painting flung rocks at the poor subject without any warning.

But today, he's thinking.

He's thinking about pushy friends and well-meaning brothers, of creepy little girls, and, most importantly, of Cas.

Cas doesn't think he notices, notices the details. He does, but, then again, they flew on opposite ends of the spectrum from each other. There were details, and then there were hairline fractures spilling out everything a person had. Castiel was pretty sure he was the only one (besides the other boy's brother) that could pull back these seams on Dean and just have that unrequited emotion.

He weren't quite sure what it was yet.

"…Dean?" Cas whispers, gentle, as if not to break the spell the rain put on the usually overactive boy.

"Yeah?" Dean is equally silent, recognizing the sacredness of the little niche with the window thrown wide open to let the storm's somehow calm calamity.

"Why do we…uh…why are we…" Castiel lifted a shoulder gently and dropped it, not uncomfortable, just curious. Mild curiosity, of course- all other emotions were stifled by that unrequited feeling that still hovered over you both like the wings of an angel.

Dean knows the question, and he'd asked himself the same one many times.

Why?

It could be as simple as that. This, this waiting, this _silence _was uncharacteristic for them both, at least for Dean. No, both. Cas was not ever just silent. There was always some coherent thought, some gear turning, or at least conversation to occupy his time.

In reply, Dean shrugged.

The corners of Cas's mouth twitched up.

"What makes you think I know any more than you? My guess is…magic." The wand clutched in Dean's hand, previously forgotten, wobbled a bit, as if agreement.

Rolling his eyes, Cas sat up from his cramped position, resting hunched over his knees. He restrained himself from noting that this was indeed a school of magic, and most actions committed, would, indeed, most likely contain an element of that. But no; the moment remained and the silence reigned again.

For a while, at least, until the curiosity stirred itself back up into Castiel.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Why us?"

Why…us. For a second, Dean can't comprehend the question. Why them…what? Why were they there? Why were they allowing time to pass and events to happen when usually they _were _that event?

But then, he got it. Why were they, two so different, incompatible as they came, being the ones sucked into this little magical place and-

and-

and-

and-

Cas was inching closer to Dean, their hips brushing gently together. Turning his head, he studied Dean's profile for a moment before bringing his fingers up to trace across his cheek and down to his chin, which he grabbed and turned Dean to face him.

He's never felt so bold.

Dean's breathing accelerates slightly, and they both just stare at each other like the secrets of the whole entire universe lay behind the other's irises.

Blue stars.

Green stars.

They kiss, and it's flying.

It's exploding.

It's awkward.

It's any adjective they wished to put to it, all of positives, all of the negatives. They don't pull apart for the longest and shortest time, and when that finally came, Dean couldn't breathe anymore and Cas was panting like he had run a marathon.

"Why us, Dean?"

"Why not?"

And they kissed again to the sound of the rain hitting roof tiles.


End file.
